The Science of the School
by Evin Rilistot
Summary: AU, Crossover. Note: Max and the others do not play a role in this; I am only using the setting of "the School". The IOU is the organization that took over the School. Sherlock is an experiment; John is to be experimented on. Both are 7-8 years old.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Alright, a little background info: This is a Sherlock/Maximum Ride crossover, I don't own anything, etc etc etc. There will be no characters from the actual Max Ride book in this crossover, only the setting. John and Sherlock are around the age of 6 or 7. Sherlock is an experiment, and John got captured by the IOU (an organization working for the School) to become experimented on. The rest is from here on out! I don't know how many chapters, but there is definitely more to come! Enjoy and review! –Evin.

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A boy woke up in a cage, shivering. The temperature was exactly seventy-three degrees Fahrenheit, and from one glance he could see one thousand two hundred and eighty-six goose bumps on his right arm. He turned to check on his other arm, but stopped when he realised that it was chained up behind his back to what appeared to be bars. He was in a cage. Whipping his head around, the young child took in the dimensions of his prison. The cage was approximately three feet and 4 inches wide, five feet in length, and three and a half feet in height, not including the top, which he couldn't see. If he had to guess, he would have given an answer of around 3 or 4 inches of solid metal. Much like the bottom, this, after moving around, appeared to be attached to the ground. Most likely inserted into the cement when it was still drying, it ensured little to no escape. The boy tried to move around the small cage, but with his arm locked up, even the slightest lurch shot a spasm of pain up his arm.

Goodness, it was a pain to keep waking up in different rooms, with different people. This was the second time he had been in the dark, though, so he guessed that he wouldn't complain about the scenery change.

Suddenly, a small noise came from a cage beside him. The boy tensed, his eyes shifting through the thick darkness until he could make out another boy, around his age, huddled in a cage. He was a bit scrawny, and had a mop of brownish blondish hair stuck to his face in clumps. He was clad in a knitted sweater- the first boy figured it was about two years old, and worn frequently from the small tears and frays here and there.

The boy sat still, not daring to make a noise, as he listened to the blonde silently whimper. He could tell that the other could not see him, and he let the boy have a few moments of privacy. The boy would have kept quiet for longer and observed more, had his arm not become too numb. Attempting to shake it alive, he accidentally rattled his chains, and they made a harsh clanging sound against the metal bars.

"Who's there?" the scrawny boy cried out, shrinking back against his own cage. The boy moved his arm again, rattling his chains even more, and moved slightly towards the lock that held his arm hostage.

"I-I'm not afraid of you!" the small boy cried out again, and came closer to the sound.

"Hello there" the first boy said, peering closer at the lock. It was inscribed with tiny letters, and he could make out a "Made in China" stamp on the bottom. Shifting his eyes to the blonde, he could see that the boy had relaxed a little from hearing another child's voice. He was still nervous, though, and the boy couldn't blame him, even though he thought it was ridiculous to fear the dark.

"H-hello. What's your name?" the boy with the sweater asked, crawling to the edge of his cage. Unlike the first boy, he was not attached to or chained to anything, and he had a larger cage, despite his body being smaller.

"ZSVJU0009XPXXX2" the thin boy replied curtly, trying to look into the keyhole.

"Hey, that's not a name! Okay, how about we give you one? You can't have my name; my name is only for me. What about Peter? Steven?"

"Sure is locked" the first boy muttered, his right hand yanking around to try to break or loosen the lock.

"What was that? Sherlock?" the scrawny child asked, eyes straining to see.

"Mmm." the boy replied, tugging on the chain, attempting break free. When he saw it was impossible, he stopped, and with a sigh, turned to look at the other boy.

"Ha, that's a curious name. I'm John. John Watson." The boy said, his lips quirking into a slight grin.

"Pardon?" the boy asked, but John had already begun to rattle on about other things. Sherlock decided to try another method of escape; he strained and pushed against the bars of his cage, his thin legs stretching to attempt to bend the bars.

"Where are you from?" John asked. Sherlock didn't pause his attempts to break free as he answered the boy.

"Here." He said, finally noticing that he wasn't coming out of this cage, unlike all those other times. There were plenty of other times; he guessed he would soon be gone after a test or two, in another room, with other experiments. He was oblivious to John's absence of response, until he turned over to John. The boy's mouth was parted slightly, shocked.

"…Oh…" was all that John could manage.

"Yep." Was all that Sherlock said in reply. They sat there, looking at each other, until Sherlock decided to break the silence again.

"I'm guessing you are not from here, then. Where did you partake in living before arriving here?" he questioned, his mouth a straight line. John's face drained colour, and he looked down. Sherlock squinted his eyes briefly before he registered the salty water gathering around the boy's eyelids, and noted two drops sliding down his face 2.67 seconds before the rest joined. Sherlock's face remained impassive as he reached through the bars of his cage, his fingers coming four inches short of John's.

"Don't cry, John. It is unattractive." He said softly, and pulled his arm back when he realised that John was not going to look up for a while. Exhaling, he proceeded to scan the rest of the room outside his dog cage. There was a steel door, with no window, on the wall to the right of him. A lab table with equipment was lined up by the left wall, and there was a large refrigerator; from what Sherlock could see, it was labelled as "Mixed Parts." Most likely to be from body parts of past experiments, Sherlock thought, making a mental note not to tell John.

"I came from Liverpool." John finally mumbled through his arms, which had come to wrap around his knees. Sniffling and wiping his runny nose on the trailing sleeve of his sweater, he shivered, just noticing the cold.

"Hey, Sherlock?" he asked. "Why am I here?" Sherlock paused, uncertain how to answer.

"You're here to-" he said, but got cut off by the sound of keys rattling outside the door. Both the boys shrank back against their cages, scooting to the furthest corner away from the approaching footsteps. The keys were put in the lock and the steel door opened, the lights flickering on. John threw his hands up to cover his face, and Sherlock looked down, hoping that his curly hair would hide him.

The clicks of the footsteps approached, and John tensed up even more, but Sherlock had recognized its owner.

"Mrs. Hudson!" he whispered, scooting forwards in his cage. "Mrs. Hudson, I'm here!" he called out a little louder. John peered out through his hands, adjusting to the light, and saw an old lady approaching. He was about to shoosh Sherlock, but he seemed to know her.

"Oh, dear, they've got you all locked up this time?" she asked, and trotted over, crouching down next to Sherlock's cage. He reached a hand out, and Mrs. Hudson took it in her own, rubbing it. John just watched on, numb from the shock of the light and the unfamiliar face. Mrs. Hudson noticed him, and leaned over to whisper to Sherlock.

"Have they… done anything to this boy here?" she managed to get out, but Sherlock just shook his head silently. Mrs. Hudson looked relieved, and scooted over, reaching through John's cage for his hands. John shrunk back, his instincts taking over.

"John, it's okay, she's a friend." Sherlock whispered, and John tentatively reached out to meet Mrs. Hudson's outreached hand. Her fingers were warm to the touch, and she tsk-ed, rubbing his hands till they were more of a pink colour again.

"Dearies, I brought your dinner. Goodness, they were having me on the regular route; can you believe it? I noticed your absence and demanded they let me on this one! You've grown on me, dear." She added fondly, her eyes crinkling as she quickly brought over a plate of food.

"Now, dear, what's your name?" she asked John, handing him a plate of bread and cheese, with a glass of water alongside it. "I know, the School doesn't give much, but Sherlock never eats, so you can probably have his portion, too." She said, frowning a little.

"It's John, miss. Thank you, miss, but I'm not that hungry…" he mumbled, poking at his bread with a finger.

"Well, I'll leave it here just the same. I won't have you two starve." She said, and turned to walk away.

"Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock asked, his face pressed up against the bars of the dog crate.

"Yes, dear?" she answered, looking back.

"Could you give us some blankets? The temperature is only seventy-three degrees Fahrenheit." He said, his eyes growing large and pleading. Mrs. Hudson sighed, rolling her eyes, and walked to the cupboard next to the refrigerator to get two thin sheets.

"I'm your feeding lady, not your housekeeper, dears." She said, but pushed a blanket through the bars of each cage anyways. Walking away, she turned off the lights, whispering a quick "Goodnight!" and secured the door shut. Sherlock tossed John his blanket with his free hand, and John managed to pull it in through the bars after a little effort.

"I don't need mine; take it. I'm not hungry, either." He said, pushing his food over to John. He then turned so that his head was resting on his arm, like a cradle.

"I… uh…well… goodnight…I guess." John stuttered, pulling the sheets close to him. Lying down on the floor of the crate, he shut his eyes. This isn't that bad, he thought drowsily. Not as bad as he expected a scary place like this to be.

"It's only downhill from here, John. Could be dangerous." Sherlock muttered, thinking. John's eyes flew open, startled, but then he realised that he must've just been talking to himself again. Shutting his eyes again, he drifted off into an uncomfortable and cold sleep, oblivious to the other boy who sat awake, pondering over what the morrow will bring.


	2. Chapter 2

_**AN:**__ I wanted to say thank you to all those nice comments and the alerts! Apparently this is actually being read D: Also, I am SO sorry that this took such a long time! I was a little preoccupied with summer camps and working… Love to each and every one of you wonderful people; Evin R._

Chapter 2

The door to the room opened again, and John blinked, waking up from his sleep, disturbed by the bright light that shone through the opening. He immediately turned to look at his new friend, who was sitting calmly against his cage bars. His face showed no interest whatsoever as a man strode with puffy black hair strode in. The stranger ignored Sherlock, just as Sherlock was doing to him, and walked up to John, his lips parting into what appeared to be a sneer.

"Hello, erm, what was it? John Watson, is it not?" the man said, flipping through some files in his hand. He crouched down to take a closer look just as the door opened again, and a woman came in. _Not Mrs. Hudson, unfortunately_, thought John as he shrank back a little.

"You knew very well what his name was, Anderson, do not try to hide it. An idiot playing dumb is simply lowering all of our IQs in the room." Sherlock said, yawning and closing his eyes. Anderson snarled at him silently before turning back to John.

"ZSVJU0009XPXXX2!" snapped the woman, turning to Sherlock. "That's enough already! Do you want us to shut you up again?" she bristled, and faced John. Anderson wrote something down on a file, ignoring the boy.

"You'll do best not to get close to that one; he'll do nothing but trouble to you and to him in the end." She said, motioning to Sherlock with a wave of her hand. A grimace crossed her face, and she stepped closer to Anderson.

"Now, now, Sally, calm down, we mustn't let… _it_… ruffle our feathers." Anderson commented in a nasally voice, patting her hand with the one he wasn't writing with.

"Anderson, Donovan, can I ask a question?" Sherlock purred, inching closer to the edge of his cage.

Sally Donovan sighed and Anderson rolled his eyes.

"It better not be one of your idiotic theoretical quest-"

"Have you two been having sex again?" Sherlock asked suddenly, lighting up. He put his face up against the bars and grinned up at Anderson and Donovan, who were gaping at him in shock and horror.

"'Cause, you know, I do recall there being an act that stated in your contracts that there be no fraternizing with employees in the same division as you…" he went on to say gleefully, noting the wide-eyed looks the two scientists were giving each other.

The two of them launched into a fight, Donovan screeching that _it_ will tell their boss and Anderson trying to figure out _how_ it knew. Sherlock simply sat in his cage smugly. Everyone had forgotten about John, who was curled up in a ball on the floor of his cage, embarrassment flooding his cheeks. _That_ was a dirty word, and his mum had told him never to talk about such a thing in public. The nerve of his friend! Maybe the Sally lady had been right- Sherlock was a bad influence.

"Sherlock!" he whispered, and Donovan and Anderson turned to look at him with puzzled expressions. Sherlock looked at his nails, and John couldn't figure out why they were suddenly giving him unwanted attention.

"John decided to be humane and has kindly given me a name." he stated, scratching the back of his neck. "That name happens to be 'Sherlock'."

"O-Oh." Was all that Donovan could say. Anderson stood, dumbfounded, and scribbled something else down on the file in his hands.

"So, ZSVJU0- ah, forget it. _Sherlock_, how do you feel about obtaining a name?" Donovan asked after coming out of her momentary stupor. Sherlock just blinked up at her, his face expressionless.

"I don't see how this will lead to any magnificent data, and you know very well I refuse to keep up petty conversation for the sake of distracting me from Anderson, who is writing down every detail of my glorious appearance." Sherlock replied, shifting so that his arm was more comfortable. It had fallen asleep overnight, and it was cramping up badly.

That was a fact that he wanted to keep silent; he was known never to show pain.

Anderson didn't look up, but kept writing, a paragraph that was, in fact, describing the boy's appearance at the time.

"Though you really could write that in a sentence, Anderson." Sherlock scoffed, "It is still disgusting and is losing more weight." Anderson finally looked up, and closed the folder with a snap.

"I don't see how what I'm writing concerns you, freak." Anderson hissed, striding out of the room, and slammed the door shut behind him. The two boys sat, looking at the door, but Donovan was already moving around, grabbing something from a table in the corner.

"I don't particularly enjoy having to work on you, ZS- _Sherlock_, but I'm not completely heartless, either." She said as she turned a key in the lock that held Sherlock's chain together.

"You better not tell anyone I did that, freak. Oh, and a new shipment in coming in." She whispered, looking straight at a security camera, and with a swift movement, stood up and grabbed her folder. With one last glance at the two boys, she walked out the door hurriedly, and locked it behind her. Sherlock and John sat silently as they listened to her footsteps grow fainter and fainter, until they disappeared.

Sherlock tugged off the chain, and rubbed his tiny wrist.

"Interesting" was all he said about that.

"What did she mean? Sherlock? New shipment? Is that important?" John launched himself into a rampage of questions, and Sherlock just shook his head, a faint smile growing on his face.

"They will never find out just how much you talk, you being all gentle and quiet when the grownups are around." Sherlock snorted, and John blushed, shrugging. Sherlock closed his eyes and rested his head against the bars of his cage, relieved that his arm was no longer suspended.

He opened his eyes abruptly when he heard a whimper. John was facing away from him, and his shoulders were shaking slightly.

"John?" Sherlock asked tentatively, and noticed that the small boy crying made him feel sad for some reason. John turned himself around, and wiped a red and quite runny nose on the large sleeve of his sweater.

"I miss my mum." John whispered, and a tear trickled out of the corner of his eye. Sherlock grew somber, and reached out towards the other cage.

"We will find a way to get you ho-" Sherlock started, just as the door opened again, and two men clad in white strode in. John shrunk back as the two men walked over, then simultaneously picked up his cage. Realising what was going on, Sherlock launched himself towards his bars, and reached to grab onto the other boy's cage. The boy paled and started shrieking as one of the men pulled out a needle and jabbed it in his skin.

"John!" Sherlock shouted, "Stay awake!", but the boy was already slipping away, and collapsed with a small thud onto the blankets in his cage.

Sherlock yelled out, and tried to grab onto the cage, which was now being carried out by the two men. One of them flipped the light, engulfing the room in darkness, while the other opened the door. They both stepped outside at the same time, taking John with them.

Sherlock was still yelling when they shut the door, locking him in once more.


End file.
